


Long Is The Road

by gaykatastrophe



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Clexa, F/F, Road Trips
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-07
Updated: 2016-02-22
Packaged: 2018-05-11 18:19:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 16,334
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5637064
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gaykatastrophe/pseuds/gaykatastrophe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Roadtrip AU. Modern AU. College AU. Clarke offers Raven's room-mate, Lexa, a ride home after Lexa's original plans are cancelled. They set off on a trip across the country and well it’s a clexa fic so, what do u think happens?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. I-Spy A Noodle Box? Or Not...

After about an hour on the road, Clarke’s stomach starts to rumble. She forgot that she hadn’t eaten since breakfast which was 5 hours ago. Raven seems to notice, “Would you like something to eat, Griffin?” she asks, rummaging through the remnants of her pantry in the bag at her feet, “I got marshmallow… rice crisps… these look like walnuts… maybe?” She pulls something else out and takes a sample before spitting it out the window, “stale taco shells…”  
None of that sounds particularly nutritious, nor appetizing, “I think I’ll pass, thanks, Raven. I think we’re coming into a town soon anyway, maybe we can grab something there?”  
“That does sound better.” Raven says, tossing the rest of the taco shell back into her bag.  
“Hey Lexa, you feeling anything in particular?” Clarke asks.  
“Uh, no. Whatever you guys decide will be fine.”  
“Okay.” Clarke replies.

Clarke was right, about three minutes later, the flow of highway traffic comes to a halt at a set of lights, and ahead they glimpse the beginning of a long street of storefronts. When the light changes to green, Raven sticks her head out the window, eagerly scanning for her choice of eatery, like a bird of prey hunting its next meal, “Hey, pull over hear, Griffin, there’s a Noodle Box, just down this side street.” Clarke flicks on her indicator and finds pulls into a park. The girls climb out of the car and take a moment to stretch before Clarke locks up. They start walking back up the street, til they reach what looks like a fairly dodgy alley.  
“So, Noodle Box, Raven?”  
“I swear I saw one down here.”  
“Oh you must’ve mistaken that tattoo parlour for a legitimate restaurant.” Clarke retorts, pointing to the white store banner with the red dragon.  
Lexa looks a little out of place, and uncomfortable. Although who can blame her, this alley does look like the perfect setting for a horror movie, and the bouncer at the door certainly doesn’t look friendly.  
“What about that kebab place across the street?” Lexa suggests.  
Clarke decides that sounds far better than whatever they’d get at the tattoo place, and it would appear the kebab place actually exists, “That sounds good.” She replies.  
“Aw. I was really feeling noodles though.” Raven whines.  
“Well you let yourself down there, Ray.”

After lunch they clamber back into the hot car. After about 2 minutes Raven is complaining she is bored and that, “There is nothing good on the radio.”  
“What about i-spy?” Clarke suggests.  
“Aw Yesss! I’m going first.”  
“Lexa, do you want to play?” Clarke asks.  
“Play what?”  
“i-spy?”  
“What’s that?”  
“Are you serious?” Who has never heard of i-spy before?  
“Um. Yeah?”  
“It’s a game you play in the car. Someone says “i-spy with my little eye, something beginning with… and you say the first letter of something you can see and whoever guesses what it is first, wins. Have you really never played before?”  
“No. My parents didn’t like it when I talked in the car. They said it distracted them from driving.”  
“Oh. Well, okay.” Clarke wonders what sort of relationship Lexa has with her parents. It doesn’t sound particularly happy. 

She’s pulled from her thought when Raven decides the game is starting, “I spy with my little eye, something beginning with, P.”  
“Plants?” Clarke asks. It seems too obvious.  
“Powerpole?”  
“No.”  
“Pigeon?”  
“Can you see any pigeons, Griffin?”  
“No.”  
“Well, neither can I.”  
“What about paint?” Lexa joins in the game.  
“Nope.”  
Clarke and Lexa are intently staring out the windows, trying to crack the riddle. Several minutes pass before Raven asks, “Do yous give up yet?”  
“Just gives us a clue, is it inside or outside the car?”  
“Nope, not telling you that. Yous are never going to guess it.”  
“You don’t have enough faith in us, Raven.” Lexa replies.  
“What about people!?” Clarke asks excitedly, thinking she’s finally got it.  
“Nope.”  
“Person?”  
“Same thing. Still no.”  
“Well I give up.”  
“Lexa?” Raven asks.  
“Fine. I give up.”  
“Do yous wanna know?” Raven continues to taunt; smug that she has one the first round.  
“Yes.” They both answer in unison.  
“Poop. On the windscreen.” Clarke rolls her eyes.  
The game continues for several more rounds until everyone bores of it. Lexa plays eyelashes which no-one guesses, but the rest are fairly predictable, like “bark” and “sign.”

It isn’t much longer until they reach Raven’s neighbourhood.  
“It’s just down this street.” Raven points, giving directions.  
“Are you sure you aren’t leading us to another dark alley.” Clarke teases.  
“Very funny, Griffin.”

Clarke helps Raven take her bags inside.  
“I’ll see you next year then Griff.”  
“I’m sure I’ll hear from you before then.” Clarke says leaning in for a hug.  
“You betchya.”

When Clarke comes back out to the car Lexa has moved to the front seat. She checks the time, 3.24pm. She isn’t sure how far they’ll get before they need to find a hotel for the night. She knows that they need to follow the I-80 through to Chicago, but they certainly won’t be getting there today. Better yet, they could divert that smoky city altogether.

Clarke notices that Lexa is clutching her seat belt rather tightly when they go around corners, “Is there something wrong with my driving?” She asks.  
“No, it’s just a little… erratic. You could slow down for corners a bit more.”  
Clarke shrugs, but makes an effort to slow down. They endure most of the ride in silence, both too tired from a long hot day in the car to talk.

The sun has almost fall behind the trees when Clarke sees the first exit in over 20 miles. She takes it and heads up North toward the National Park. Eventually they find a small holiday park, with a convenience store, and gas station. 

Clarke goes in to book a room. She walks up to the counter and the desk attendant, a young boy maybe 10 years old, turns his attention away from his game of space invaders, and flashes Clarke a cheeky grin.  
“Hi, are your parents around?” She asks.  
“No, but I can help you.”  
“Okay then. I need a room with two beds for tonight.”  
The child minimizes his game and checks the database, “We have a family room with three beds. That’s the only one left.”  
“That will do.”  
Clarke hands over the $60 and makes sure he writes down their booking. She doesn’t want his parents knocking at their door later demanding payment she’s already given. The day has been long enough already.  
The boy gives her a key and tag with a messy “13” that almost resembles “75” scrawled on it.

After driving around the park about 3 times, they finally find their cabin, hidden behind the first row, almost reclaimed by the national parkland.

“Why are there 3 beds, Clarke?” Lexa asks, “There isn’t someone joining us is there?” She seems almost scared by the prospect of additional company.  
“No, no, this is the only one they had left.”  
“Am I supposed to believe that? We just drove past at least 20 other cabins that were all empty.”  
“Maybe they all had only one bed? I asked for two.”  
“Maybe.”

Clarke chooses the bed in front of the television, whilst Lexa takes the one against the wall, leaving the double in the middle free. 

“I’m going to get dinner, would you like anything in particular?”  
“I don’t expect you to buy me dinner, Clarke.”  
“You can shout tomorrow?”  
“Okay. Well I’ll have whatever you’re having then.” Lexa replies, sitting down, and pulling a book from the pocket on her suitcase.

Clarke comes back 15 minutes later with two chicken burgers and a couple cans of root beer.  
“Thank you, Clarke.”  
“Don’t thank me yet. The woman at the counter seemed pretty hostile. I wouldn’t be surprised if she slipped some poison into the food somewhere.”  
Lexa laughs at Clarke’s joke, “I’ll keep that in mind.”

“Hey. What are you reading?”  
Lexa lifts up the cover so Clarke can see, _Journey To The River Sea._ “It’s a children’s book” Lexa replies sheepishly.  
“What’s it about?”  
“This girl, who has been sent to live with her wealthy cousins in Brazil, after her parent’s death, her father was a biologist of some kind, and she’s beginning to think he isn’t really dead.”  
“Is it any good?”  
“Yeah, I’d recommend it.”  
“Okay,” Clarke pauses, “Do you mind if I watch television? It won’t interrupt you, will it?”  
“No, that’s fine. Don’t worry about me.” Lexa replies, cooly.  
“Okay.”

Clarke starts channel flicking until she finds one of those “Pawn Auction” shows. She can’t believe how much people pay for some of this shit? I mean come on that table is not worth 3 grande? It looks like a 9th grader made it in woodwork class and got a D for it. “Oh, okay, apparently there’s a chair set to go with it too. They aren’t even made with the same material? The chairs are steel?” Clarke starts complaining out loud.  
“Some people have eccentric taste, Clarke.” Lexa responds, “For instance take that buyer there,” she says, pointing at the screen, “he’s wearing a strong combination of camo and leather. Perhaps you’ll be seeing that in _Vogue 2016._ ”  
“No you’re right. I mean, look at the seller, denim, stilettos and a safety vest. I imagine that’s the Fall line-up.”  
“See? The dining set seems perfectly acceptable now.” Clarke laughs at Lexa’s wit. _This trip won’t be bad at all._


	2. Probably Not A Murderer...

The blonde takes one last look through her flat, making sure that she hasn’t left anything behind. She is almost satisfied that the apartment has been cleaned out when she takes a quick look behind the sofa. There, lying on the ground, crumbled amidst the draping curtains is a fern green hoodie. She curses Octavia. The Blakes had only left about 10 minutes ago. Bellamy had said he wanted to be home by nightfall, “to watch the soccer grand finale”. Both girls knew it had more to do with his fear of driving at night, after their father’s accident. Octavia was too young to remember that. Besides, he doesn’t really need to watch the game. Everyone knows Portland are going to scorch Chicago, easy.

Clarke entertains the idea of leaving the hoodie behind for the cleaners but she knows Octavia is far too fond of it, and is quite frankly surprised that she left it behind. Clarke decides to stash it in her bag, and deal with it later. Hopefully the hoodie is the only thing Octavia left behind.

She nearly trips over her pile of suitcases in the hall when she tries to lock the door. Clarke groans when she realizes it will take at least three trips to get them all loaded into her car. 

Once her luggage is packed she heads back to the second floor and locates the third room. She doesn’t knock, “Raven, get off your ass. I told you we were leaving at 11.”

“Huh?” The dark-haired girl is splayed across the couch, with her eyes glued to the screen watching a documentary on what? Train motors. You know what? It doesn’t matter.    
“Have you even packed yet?”

“Huh?” Clarke is growing increasingly frustrated. The dark haired girl seems oblivious, “Packed? Um. Yeah. Mostly.”

“What do you mean mostly?”

“Oh, you know..”   
“RAVEN!” Raven is startled, as is evident in the fact she nearly falls off the couch.

“Whoa. Calm your farm, Griffin. I just gotta throw some shit in my case and empty out the pantry. You know me, I wasn’t going to pack up the food before I’ve done eating.” Raven flashes a cheeky grin but Clarke looks annoyed. She’s tired from lugging all those cases down three flights of stairs and really just wants to be off.

“Well? Get to it.” The blonde snaps.

Raven gets up, sulking, and heads toward her room. Clarke hears the unzipping of her case, and the clanging of metal as she haphazardly throws her belongings inside. When the moves into the bathroom, the room is almost silent. Clarke switches off the television and raised voices become noticeable from Raven’s flatmate’s room. Clarke has a knack for involving herself in other people’s drama and can’t help her curiosity.  She strides over toward the closed door and leans her ear against the adjoining wall.

“Are you kidding me? I’ve been waiting all year for this.” And then a pause. It seems there is just one voice. She must be speaking on the phone, “No. I understand.” The speaker struggles to subdue their anger, “Will you be freed any time soon?” Pause. “All Summer? No, I understand.” A short while later, she hears a goodbye and the housemate hangs up the phone. Footsteps start to approach the door. Clarke can’t step aside fast enough. The pretty brown-haired girl sticks her head out, “Were you listening in? Didn’t anyone teach you that eavesdropping is rude?”

Clarke avoids the question, “What was that about? You seem pretty pissed.”

The housemate glares at Clarke, “If you must know, the person I was supposed to be spending the summer with just bailed on me.”

“Oh, that sucks.”

“I don’t need your sympathy, Clarke.” Clarke tries to ignore the fact the girl knows her name, when she doesn’t know anything about her that Raven hasn’t told her; which isn’t much. Mostly just hypotheses of the potential psychopathic serial murderer she probably is. Clarke doesn’t think she looks like a psychopath. Her anger seems more resigned than aggressive.    
“I wasn’t giving you my sympathy. Have you got anywhere else to stay?”

The potential-psychopath-but-probably-not responds in the same impatient tone, “I’ll be staying with my parents in Colfax, if I can get a plane out that way on such short notice.” 

“Washington?”

“Yeah.” Clarke detects an air of dread in her voice, as though that isn’t a place the mysterious flatmate wants to be.

“Okay. Well, I’m gonna make sure Raven is actually packing.” 

“Okay.” The brunette steps aside to let Clarke pass. 

 

Clarke walks into Raven’s room to see the dark haired girl struggling to close her last suitcase. She is surprised that Raven actually managed to pack up her belongings so quickly, when she is most certain she didn’t start until Clarke walked in and made her. Clarke congratulates her on her efficiency.

“Oh, I’m not done yet. Still got the food, remember?”

“Of course.” 

Raven drags her suitcases out into the kitchen; the housemate, having disappeared back to her room. Clarke has an idea.

“Hey Raven?”

“What?”

“I think I should invite your housemate with me on my trip.”

“What? Are you crazy?” Raven exclaims.

Clarke hushes her, “Keep it down.”

“You don’t even know her name.”

“Neither do you.”

“Do so.”

“What is it then?”

“Uh. Like Lena or Axel or something.”

“Axel? Really? You’ve been living with her for a year and you don’t even know her name.”

“Well I never see her, you see. I don’t need to know her name.” Raven replies, smugly. “Why do you want to take her with you, anyway? She might murder you.”

“Raven, I am pretty sure she isn’t going to murder me.”

“Well, you can’t be sure.”

“It’s just she said she’s going home to Colfax, which is only a few hours from my town, and technically isn’t even off-route.”

“So?”

“So it doesn’t sound like she really wants to go home, being on the road would delay that. And I could do with a travel buddy.”

“Hey, I offered to come with you?”

“And I said no, because your internship is more important.” Raven huffs.

“Whatever. Just don’t let her kill you.”

“I won’t.”

 

This time when Clarke approaches the housemate’s door she knocks.

Rather than calling out to come in, the housemate greets Clarke at the door, “What do you want?”

“Oh, nice to see you again Clarke. Could I help you with anything?” Clarke rolls her eyes.

The other girl ignores the sarcasm, “What do you want?”

“Any luck finding plane tickets?”

“No. Not that it’s your business.”

“Do you want to maybe travel with me?”

The other girl seems taken aback. “Why would you offer  _ me  _ that? Washington is all the way across the country.”

“I know. I live there. I’m headed there anyway, and it sounds like you could use a ride.”

The other girl takes a moment to consider her options, “Are you sure? You don’t even know my name, do you?”

“Okay then, what’s your name?”

“Lexa.”

“Lexa.” Clarke takes a moment to absorb the new information, “RAVEN! Her name is Lexa.”

Raven calls back, “See? I was close.”

Clarke returns her attention to Lexa who has buried her forehead in her palm, “12 months. We’ve been living here for 12- and she doesn’t even…” Clarke laughs,

“Well, will you come with me or not?” Lexa looks up to meet Clarke’s eyes, as though she is deeply considering the offer,

“I wouldn’t want to be a bother…”

“Oh, you won’t. Beside, a travel companion would be nice.”

“Well if you’re sure…”

“I am.”

“Okay.”

“Okay, then. Good. That’s settled. We’re leaving in 10.”

“Okay.”

“Uh… Do you need any help carrying stuff down to the car?”

“No. It’s okay. I don’t have much.”

“Well... I’ll go help Raven out, then.”

 

Clarke walks back out into the living area to see Raven sitting at the kitchen counter eating Nutella out of the jar with her fingers. She looks guilty.

“What? You were taking so long I thought you must have been doing much more than just talking. Besides, I had to do something, and seeming how I packed everything else away…” Clarke glances at the overfilled green bag on the counter. Well, if she wants to call that  _ packing _ ...

“Couldn’t you have just kept watching that train documentary?”

“No. I checked, it’s finished. There’s something on about lung disease in amphibians now… boring!” Clarke is fairly sure lung disease is more interesting than train engines, but each to their own, she supposes.

“Well, clean up, we’re leaving.” Raven tosses the open jar into the trash and washes her hands. She then grabs the smaller of her two suitcases and heads out the door, calling after herself, “You got the other one, right, Griffin?”

Clarke sighs in defeat and grabs it before following Raven out to the parking lot.

“What have you even got in here, Raven? It weighs like six tonnes.”

“You don’t want to know.”

“No, I suppose I don’t.” There’s probably a pipe bomb or something in there.

They throw Raven’s luggage in the backseat since she will be dropped home by mid-afternoon, provided the traffic conditions are compliant. Although, it leaves the back-passenger seat a little cramped.

 

Clarke and Raven wait, for what seems like forever, for Lexa to come down.

“Maybe she changed her mind. Or, _or_ _maybe_ she’s concealing her weapons so she can murder you as soon as you drop me home.” Raven taunts. 

“Or  _ maybe _ she’s just a little uncomfortable travelling with a total stranger.” Clarke reasons.

“I’m going to stick with the serial killer theory.”

“You do that. I’m gonna go check on her.” Clarke walks back across the lot toward the apartments. She notices a flashy card on the ground and picks it up. It’s her resident card. She must’ve dropped it when she was packing her own luggage earlier. Clarke uses the card to gain entry back into the apartment building. She heads back up to Raven’s room and finds Lexa standing in the doorway with her phone in one hand and a suitcase in the other, as though she is deciding whether or not to make a call. The brunette doesn’t see Clarke approaching and is startled by her voice, “You good?”

“Uh, yeah. Just checking I didn’t forget anything.” Lexa responds as she slides her phone into her jean pocket.

“Is that all you’ve got? Wow. You travel light.”

“I don’t need a lot of things, Clarke.”

“Okay, well come on, then.”

“Are you sure this is no bother?”

“Certain. Besides, it might even be fun. If you don’t murder me.”

“Why would I murder you, Clarke?”

“Never mind.” Lexa gives Clarke a strange look.

 

Clarke loads Lexa’s case into the trunk. Clarke asks her where she would like to sit but Raven calls shotgun.

“Raven!”

“What? She’s gonna get shotgun all the way across the country, can’t I at least have it for a few hours?” Raven begs with her best puppy dog eyes.

Clarke gives Lexa an apologetic face.

“It’s alright, Clarke. The back is fine.”

 

Once Clarke has made sure that everyone is buckled in, she fires up the engine, “Ready to hit the road?”

“Hell yeah!” Raven shouts back, competing with the music. Clarke sees Lexa shoot a small smile in the rearview as though to agree, “Just let me know if the music's too loud?” Lexa nods in response. 

“The music is never too loud.” Raven retorts.

“That’s because you’re deaf from using heavy machinery.”

“My machinery is awesome. Thank you.”

“Whatever.” Clarke mutters.

“Sorry, I couldn’t hear that.”

“THAT’S BECAUSE YOU’RE DEAF.” A small laugh escapes Lexa’s mouth. 

Raven turns around, “Hey, roomie, whatchya on her side for?”

“Well, for one, she took twelve months less than you to learn my name.”

Raven, unable to make a comeback, settles for turning the volume up, but Clarke swats her hand away in time, “Hey!” Raven shouts. But Clarke just shrugs. And she swears she sees a smug smile cross Lexa’s lips at Raven’s defeat.

 

“Well, was there a number two reason?” Raven asks, turning back around to Lexa.

“Reason for what?”

“For why you’re on Clarke’s side.”

“Um.” A small amount of colour sprouts in Lexa’s cheeks, “No.”

“Well why’d you say, ‘for one’ then?” Raven asks, smugly.

“It’s an expression of speech.”

“Sure, sure.”

“Just leave her be, Raven.”

“But she’s got the hots for you Clarke.”

“No I do not. That is absurd, I only just met her.”

“Well why are your cheeks so red then?”

“Because it’s 95 degrees in here.” Clarke realizes that Lexa does have a point. It’s going to be horrid if it is this hot all day. The storm clouds can’t roll in quick enough.

“There’s some cold water in the cooler bag under Raven’s suitcase, if you’d like.” Clarke offers.

“Thank you, Clarke.”

“Sorry, my AC is broken, that’s the best I can offer.”

“It will do fine.”

“Lexa think’s Clarke is  _ fine. _ ” Raven interjects.

“Shut-up Raven!” Both girls snap at once.

“Okay… Okay.” Raven backs off. 

Lexa goes back to staring out the window and Clarke fixes her eyes on the road.  _ Maybe this trip won’t be so bad. _ She thinks to herself, that is of course until Raven starts singing.


	3. You Got Here Just In Time

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger Warning: this chapter details a retelling of a pretty gory story. All that is near the start of the chapter. I’ll put in page breaks to warn you what section to skip. There are mentions of possible suicide, murder, drug abuse. (Rest assured, not from our darling characters, they’re fine.) Also. I have no clue if GPS is heavy on data usage. \\_(ツ)_/ And, have yous heard of that arm-crossing experiment, how when one person mimics the actions of another, it’s indication of an attraction to them?

When the girls went to check-out early the next morning, the young boy who had previously manned the front-desk was absent. Instead was a rough-looking man with a grease-stained T-shirt. When Clarke handed him the key, he asked, “How was your stay?”

“Lovely, thanks.” Clarke replied. Whereas Lexa simply smiled.

That was when the man saw the number on the tag, “RYAN,” he shouted out. That must be the boy, probably his son.

“I can’t believe he gave you that cabin,” the man apologizes, “we haven’t rented it out in years. There was an incident a few years ago... “ he pauses, “but I probably shouldn’t tell you about that. We’re usually around to make sure, but there’s a lot of maintenance work to do lately, and Susan was busy with the baby. In fact, I should probably take the key out the cabinet. He always tries to pull this stunt. He thinks it’s funny. Did he tell you about the incident?”

“Huh? No, he didn’t…” Clarke responds.

“Oh, I’m surprised. That’s unusual. Did he try and tell yous it was the only cabin available?”

“Yeah.”

“RYAN.” the man calls out again. Instead of the boy from yesterday, a lady with a baby on her shoulder pokes her head around the corner, “He’s already down the field playing, a family came in yesterday with a few kids his age.”

“Already?”

“Yeah. What do you want him for?”

“He gave these girls Cabin 13 last night.” The man explains. THe woman laughs.

“Did he tell yous the story?” she inquires, pointing the question at the girls.

“No.” They both answer.

“Susan.” The man warns.

“Relax, Wayne, they’ve already stayed the night.” The man resigns his argument, point in case.

“What story?” Lexa asks, shyly.’

_**Warning applies to following section.** _

* * *

 

“So about 3 years ago, three teenagers stayed the night. They must have been about your age. There was a  lovely girl, bright and bubbly, hanging off the arm off this tiny, quiet young man, and a friend of theirs who was fairly non-descript. Anyway, we warned them about not drinking too much, because we didn’t want the place wrecked- and they assured us they wouldn’t. But come the next morning, they hadn’t dropped off they key before check-out time, and they’d only payed for one night. We thought, hey maybe they’re all just asleep, they’ll probably come back this afternoon and pay for another night. Anyway, the cleaning lady was still doing her normal rounds, still thinking that lost had shot through that morning, so she goes in, and oh, it must’ve been simply horrible for her to witness what was in there, I don’t think it’s something I could ever recover from…”

“What was in there?” Clarke asks, not sure she wants to know.

“You sure you want to know?”

She isn’t, “Well, you’ve got me curious now,” she replies, honestly.

Susan continues, “Well firstly the girl was lying face-down on the carpet, in her own blood, her arms covered in gashes,”

The girls wince, but the lady goes on, “and then the boyfriend was hanging up by his neck in the bathroom, but his hands were tied up like he hadn’t done it to himself.”

“What about the other guy?”

“He was tied up in the corner, and died from an overdose of some sort of pills they couldn’t identify.”

“Who did it then?” Clarke asks.

“That’s the question, isn’t it?”

Lexa tugs on Clarke’s sleeve and leans in to whisper in her ear, hastily, “Can we go now, please?”

“Yeah.” Clarke tells Lexa.

“Well, thanks for the stay,” Clarke tells the couple on their way out.  _ Wow. They really shouldn’t be leaving their son in charge of the bookings _ , she thinks to herself.

* * *

_**Warning no longer applies. What you missed: three people died somewhat violently in that cabin. The culprit remained a mystery.** _

 

They drive in silence for a while. Clarke isn’t usually one to enjoy silence, unless the right occasion presents itself, such as getting lost in a piece of artwork or anytime she is  _ really _ trying to focus. She much prefers conversation when she is in company. 

“So… Lexa?” She asks, breaking the silence.

Lexa turns to her, “Yes, Clarke.”

“Uh. So… What’s your major?”

“Are you trying to make small talk, Clarke?”

“I suppose.”

“Peace and Conflict Studies.” Lexa responds to Clarke’s earlier question. Clarke must looked shocked. 

“You don’t seem to believe me. Why not?” Lexa asks.

“I don’t know. You just seem too much the quiet type. Like you would be more comfortable in a non-communication based arena.”

“You’d be surprised how many people actually listen to what I say, and take me at my word, Clarke.”

“Hey, I believe you.” Clarke responds.

“I didn’t say that you don’t.”

“Yes, you did. You insinuated it.”

“No, I  _ implied _ it.”

“Same difference.” 

Lexa rolls her eyes. “What’s your major?” she asks.

“Nursing. I originally applied for medicine, but didn’t get accepted. I suppose I’m glad, my mother wanted me to do it more than I did. I can still get where I want with nursing.”

“What is it that you want to do?”

“Paediatry.”

“I see.”

“Yeah.”

 

After a while, Clarke poses another question, “Do you believe in ghosts, Lexa?”

“Don’t you?” The brunette responds, as though “yes” would be the obvious answer.

“I don’t know.” 

 

“How long do you suppose this trip will last?” Lexa asks.

Clarke, in between mouthfuls of trail mix, responds, “As long as you want it to. I’ve been saving for this trip for years; I usually just fly home. I want to enjoy it. Raven was going to come with, initially, but then she got that internship.”

“I heard. So that’s why you invited me?”

“I suppose.”

“Oh, okay.”

“Come on!” Clarke teases, “You’re glad to be here, admit it.”

“I guess. It beats the alternative.”

“It’ll be fun.” Clarke assures Lexa.

“It’ll be fun.” Lexa repeats, and she might actually believe it.

 

They stop-over briefly for lunch in Janesville. Once again, Lexa orders the same as Clarke, Clarke doesn’t understand why. Does she not like making her own decisions? 

 

When they get back in the car Clarke, slides down in her seat, “Ugh.”

“What?” Lexa asks, concerned.

“It’s so hot. I’m tired of driving.” She had already been driving for six hours that morning.

Clarke stays like that for a while, occasionally groaning at the ceiling, whilst Lexa stands outside, leaning in the door, awkwardly. “Would you like me to drive? I mean, I could, if that’s okay.”

Clarke shoots up, “Yes, please. Ohmigod. Thank you.”

Lexa smiles and walks around to the driver’s door. 

 

“Where are we headed to?”

“Minneapolis.”

“Okay. Do you have a map or anything?”

Clarke laughs. She probably should have gotten a map. Perhaps they can purchase one next time they stop. She considers that she could look one up on her phone, but she knows that chews up data like a bitch. 

“Uh, just follow the road signs.” That’s what she had been doing, anyway. 

“But I can’t see any.”

“Didn’t you pay any attention on the way into town?”

“No.” Lexa replies, mildly embarrassed, which isn’t helped when she stalls the car the first time she starts it. 

“It’s been a while,” she explains.

“It’s fine. Look just go up past that island, and do a u-turn.” Lexa follows Clarke’s instruction. 

Clarke then points to the left, “now take this street, and this one… now at the end turn left on to the main road and follow it.”

“Okay.”

 

About 20 minutes out of town they approach a series of roadworks, with about half a mile of backed up traffic. Clarke sinks in her seat, and starts moaning again. 

“Clarke, must you be so vocal?”

Clarke responds with another groan. Lexa sighs.

 

By the time they have passed the roadworks, Clarke seems to have fallen asleep. Lexa gazes at her fondly, before she remembers that she is driving, and should be watching the road. 

 

After another hour, or so, a red light pops up on the dash. They’re running out of gas. Lexa isn’t necessarily accustomed to drive on multi-lane motorways, and crossing about to take exits. She isn’t sure which exit she should take, either. But they need to find a gas station, urgently. 

“Clarke.” Clarke doesn’t stir. 

“Clarke.” She repeats, a little louder, reaching over and shaking Clarke’s shoulder. But still, Clarke doesn’t wake. 

“Clarke!” She practically shouts. Clarke nearly jumps out of her seat.

“What the fuck?”

“We’re running out of gas, Clarke. The red light has come on.” Clarke seems to be awake now.

“Oh, shit. Okay. just take this exit up here.”

“But I’d need to change lanes. There’s a truck right there.”

“Just put your indicator on now. He’ll slow down for you.” Lexa does as she is told.

“Okay, good?” Clarke checks.

“Yeah, good.” Lexa takes the exit down, and there is a gas station almost immediately on their right. Lexa pulls in, and Clarke gets out to fill up. 

 

When Clarke gets back, she asks Lexa if she is right to keep driving.

“Yeah.”

“Sure?”

“You just keep sleeping, Clarke. It’s fine.”

“I’m going to ignore that I’m fairly certain you’re sassing me, and do exactly that, thank you.” Clarke replies.

 

When they reach Minneapolis, it’s late (8.00) and the residue of the lasting glow of sunlight rests heavily on the horizon, almost completely succumbing the sky to the veil of night.

Clarke suggests Lexa goes and buys some groceries, whilst she fills up the car, because “a girl can only manage so much gas station take-out.” She reminds her “to not get anything that will go bad if it’s not refrigerated.” Clarke takes the car across the road to fill-up.

When she is paying for the gas, she notices a shelf of maps behind the desk clerk. She isn’t sure why the maps need to be stacked behind the safety barrier. 

“Do you have a road map that spans all the way from DC to Washington State?” she asks.

The clerk checks the maps, “Uh, no. Not a singular map. It would have to be massive to be able to read all the major roads on,” the clerk whose name tag reads “Daveed” replies.

“Oh right, of course.”

“But we have got this book.” He says, taking a large book off the shelf, “It’s got detailed road maps of every state, and it’s got a list of popular tourist attractions that marked on, as well.”

“How much?” It does sound like a good book.

“59.” Daveed replies. That’s pricey.

“I’ll take it.” It will be worth it. Clarke has no idea what lies between here and home, and this book has all the tourist attractions marked as well?!

“Ok, that and the fuel, comes to 139.45.” 

Clarke pays with her card and then drives back over to the grocery store to wait for Lexa. 

It isn’t long before Lexa comes out carrying 2 full bags of shopping. 

 

They drive around for a while looking for a hotel with vacancies. Eventually they find one.

The managing staff says, “We only have one room left. You’re lucky. You got here just in time, I was about-”

Clarke cuts him off, “We’ll take it. 2 nights please.” Lexa looks crossly at Clarke, as though judging her for cutting the man off.

They go back out to the car and grab their bags and the groceries. 

“That was a little rude, Clarke.” Lexa speaks.

“I’m tired.”

“That’s not really an excuse.” Clarke shrugs.

 

When they unlock their room, they notice a tiny kitchenette in one corner, the bathroom next to it, and a lone double bed in the centre of the room. Both girls stand awkwardly in the doorway. They both seem to be internally questioning whether the other would be comfortable with this arrangement, whilst having no qualms with the situation, themselves.

 

Eventually, Clarke breaks the silence, “I call dibs on the left,” she says, walking inside, throwing down her case and collapsing onto the bed. Lexa follows her inside. She props down her case, and takes the bag of groceries over to the bench. She then doubles back, and picks up the bag, Clarke previously dropped. 

“How can you possibly still be tired? You slept most of the way here.”

Clarke ignores the question, or doesn’t hear.

“Clarke?”

“It’s just boring.”

“Well we are doing stuff tomorrow. Going to your museums, remember?”

“Yeah.”

 

Lexa starts heating up some food in the microwave. She brings over a plate to Clarke.

“Vegetables?”

“If you want to call them that, Clarke. They came in a frozen box, with meat, again, if that’s meat. It’s the closest thing to a premade meal I could find.”

“It’s fine, Lexa. Relax.”

Lexa soon, sits down next to Clarke on the bed. She seems to have bought the same thing for herself. Clarke is certain that there would have been a variety of options. 

 

Raven texts later that night while Clarke is in the bathroom. She still hears it and asks Lexa, “Can you check it please. It might be from my mom?”

“Where is it?”

“In the front of my bag.” Lexa gets up and rummages through the side pocket on Clarke’s bag, her fingers fumbling over a myriad of strange objects until she locates the phone.

“No. It’s Raven. Why does she think I would murder you, Clarke?”

“Oh. It’s just a crazy theory she has; because you’re so mYstERioUS.”

“I’m not mysterious.”

“I don’t know.”

“Okay.”

“Look, it’s just because Raven never bothered getting to know you.”

“I didn’t bother to get to know her either.” Lexa replies, quietly.

“It’s not too late” Clarke assures, walking out wearing only a towel.

Lexa’s jaw drops but she quickly bows her head and Clarke doesn’t seem to notice.

“Can you send a reply for me?”

“Okay. what do you want me to say.”

“Tell her, ‘It’s too late’”

 

**To: Raven**

**Sent: 9.26pm**

It’s too late.

**To: Griffin**

**Sent: 8.27pm**

dont mess w me griff

 

“Do you want me to reply to that?” Lexa asks.

“Uh, just send whatever you want.” Clarke answers.

 

**To: Raven**

**Sent: 9.29pm**

This is Lexa.

**To: Griffin**

**Sent: 8.29pm**

give the phone to clarke

**To: Raven**

**Sent: 9.29pm**

I cannot do that.

**To: Griffin**

**Sent: 8.30pm**

clarke stop messing with me. i know it’s you.

 

“Don’t respond to that.” Clarke cuts in, reading over Lexa’s shoulder.

“Do you want her to think I’m a murderer, Clarke?”

Clarke shrugs, “Don’t worry, I know you’re not.”

“Not, yet.” Lexa replies, her voice deadpan. Clarke laughs.

 

The next day they head out to the Weisman Art museum, first.

“This looks interesting,” Lexa says as they pull into the parking lot.

“It looks like a cross between metal wreckage and Howl’s castle,” she breaks, “I love it!”

 

“What did you think?” Clarke asks Lexa when they leave.

“Well, it lived up to expectations.”

It that meant to be good or bad? Clarke wonders.

“How so?” 

“It was certainly, interesting.” Lexa responds.

“In a good way?”

“I think so.”

 

The next museum has far more classical art. Clarke spends ages admiring each painting, squealing at Lexa about the brilliant use of technique, here, or the creative brush stroking, up there. Lexa just nods along. 

“This is a true masterpiece,” Clarke explains. 

Lexa agrees, but she is looking at Clarke.

 

When they get back out to the car, Clarke looks through the catalogue at other museums in the area, “There’s a Russian art museum, the next suburb over.” She suggests.

“Not another one, Clarke.” Clarke is fairly sure, lexa is secretly enjoying the museums.

“Yes, please, just one more? I haven’t seen Russian art much before. Pleaasse” Clarke begs.

“Okay.  _ One _ more.”

Clarke squeals.

 

At this museum, Lexa seems particularly interested in the war exhibition. Clarke supposes her interest matches the nature of her major.

“You go on ahead.” Lexa tells Clarke, “I want to read more about these pieces.”

“No, I’ll wait.” She says, sitting down on one of the nearby benches. 

Lexa takes her time, examining each piece, and reading the captions next to them. Each caption is almost like an essay, explaining the story behind every photograph and painting.

Clarke watches Lexa. She seems to be genuinely enjoying herself. 

 

Clarke pulls out her sketchpad from her bag and starts drawing while she waits. 

She starts by drawing the wall of war paintings, in blurred detail, a row of sharp squares across the wall on her page. Before she realized it, she is drawing long flowing brown hair, and an outstretched arm, with a finger tracing the lines of writing on the wall. 

She is so absorbed in the detail, that she doesn’t notice Lexa approach.

“You’re an artist?” She questions, “I should have figured. All these museums, and all.”

“Uh, yeah.” Clarke responds, “I, uh, hope you don’t mind…” her words trail off.

“No, it’s good. You’re very talented.” Lexa replies.


	4. The Calm Before The Storm

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger Warning: this chapter mentions or infers: sexual harassment, alcoholism, death/murder/manslaughter, suicide and homophobia. I’ll put in page breaks to warn you what sections to skip. Also, don’t fret Clexa shippers, the time is nigh.

That evening, Clarke finds herself sketching Lexa’s figure again, as she absent mindedly doodles on her page, her mind caught-up in the girl moving about the small kitchenette, heating up more pre-packaged meals for tonight’s tea.

Lexa looks over, having caught Clarke staring, “Drawing me again, Clarke?” She teases.

Clarke looks mildly embarrassed. She snaps her sketchbook closed, “What? No. I was just drawing the room. I want to remember this trip, that’s all.”

Clarke almost persuades herself that that is the truth.  _ Technically, _ it is the truth.    
“Are you sure? Because you know,  _ I am in the room. _ ” Lexa smirks at Clarke.

“Shut-up, Lexa.” Clarke snaps, a little too abruptly. Lexa shuts-up.

  
Dinner that night is awkward, and neither girl bothers to switch on the television, fastened in their seated positions by the blanket of unresolved dispute hanging between them. Lexa finishes eating before Clarke and when Clarke is done she takes Lexa’s dish to the trash for her.

When she returns to the bed, she apologizes, “I’m sorry about before. I shouldn’t have gotten so angry.”

“Did I say something wrong?” Lexa asks quietly, as though she is afraid of the answer.

“No. You just reminded me of someone.”

“Oh. Okay.” Lexa pauses, “Do you want to talk about it?”

“I don’t know.”

 

Later that night, long after the lights have been shut off, Clarke can’t stop her mind from picturing  _ him.  _ She hated that he still mattered to her so much. Especially after what he’d done. The way he had played her, and Raven. Clarke should have realised sooner that there was a reason he was so secretive. That he never wanted to meet her friends, or be in photos. She was so stupid. She also hated that she had these feelings of  _ resentment  _ towards him, given everything that happened.

“Finn.” Clarke speaks, under her breath, not expecting a response. She is fairly sure Lexa is asleep. She is surprised when the other girl does respond. 

“Huh?” She says half-sleepily. Clarke thinks about saying “nothing” pretending she didn’t try to intiate this conversation. But she knows she needs to talk about it sooner or later.

“His name was Finn.” Clarke says.

“ _ Was  _ he a good person?” Lexa asks uncertainly.

“I don’t know.” Clarke says. But she does know. She just doesn’t want to admit it, “No. No. He wasn’t.” Clarke continues.

* * *

 

**_Warning applies to the following section._ **

* * *

 

“Did he hurt you, Clarke?” Lexa asks worried.

“Not like  _ that _ .” Clarke assures, “but in many other ways.”

“I’ll listen if you need to talk, Clarke.” Lexa offers.

“I met him at the start of first year. He went to a different college, but we both took this same art class on wednesday evenings. It was good for a while. But then he got weird. He was really secretive. He didn’t want to meet any of my friends. I finally convinced him to come back to my place one day, and we bumped into Raven in the hall. It turns out they used to go out. But he was  _ rough  _ with her, and cheated behind her back. Then, a few days later we were at a party together. He swore he had changed. But then I caught him making out with some other girl and I broke it off.”   
“You did the right thing, Clarke.”

Clarke knows Lexa is right, but the situation was so messy and complicated. She feels guilty for considering herself righteous in the matter. She continues, “He got really drunk that night. And-” Clarke can feel tears pooling in her eyes. She sniffles. 

“It’s okay, Clarke. You don’t have to tell me if it’s too difficult.”

“No. No. I’m okay.” (She isn’t.) Clarke continues, “He was driving home and-” Clarke pauses. Swallowing heaving breaths, “There were children in the other car, Lexa,” Clarke cries. Lexa rolls over and wraps her arms around Clarke.    
“But he didn’t die. He got to walk. The jury found him innocent. Raven called it  _ Class- A racism _ .” Lexa wants to know what happened to him. She hopes for Clarke’s sake, and Raven’s, that he isn’t still walking the streets.

“After the trial, he showed up at my place, drunk in the middle of the night, and I sent him home.” She pauses. “I shouldn’t have done that. It’s my fault, Lexa. It’s my fault that he’s dead.”

Lexa, shushes her, “It’s not your fault, Clarke.”   
“How can you say that? I sent him away. I sent him outside where the children’s uncles were waiting for him. I sent him to die, Lexa.” Lexa is secretly relieved that he met his fate. Vigilante justice is still justice, after-all.

* * *

 

_**Warning no longer applies. What you missed: The story of Finn’s death. Clarke has mixed feelings of guilt and resentment.** _

* * *

 

“It’s still not your fault. You couldn’t have known, Clarke.” Lexa assures.   
She holds Clarke whilst she cries. She can feel Clarke’s tears seeping through her t-shirt, matting the fabric to her breast. They stay like that for ages. Eventually, Lexa gets up and finds some tissues. “Here.” she offers.

“Thanks.” Clarke sniffles.

When they are both back adjusted in bed, Lexa speaks. “I lost someone, too. I know it’s no comfort to you. But I think it’s fair that I tell you.”

“You don’t owe me.” Clarke replies.   
Lexa considers this, “No, but I would still like to tell you.”

“Okay.” Clarke responds.

* * *

 

**_Warning applies to the following section._ **

* * *

  
“Her name was Costia.” Lexa starts, “We grew up together but we didn’t start dating until junior year of highschool. She was everything to me but neither of our parents approved. After a while, it seemed that she was getting tired of me, like I was no longer worth her time. But she would never admit it. She just kept distancing herself, and then she started saying hurtful things when I persisted. I grew bitter towards her, but she seemed unaffected. Like her heart had turned to ice. I wish I hadn’t been so blind. I used to think it was my fault. But her parents-” anger seeps into Lexa’s tone, “they were forcing her to retract from me. They put her in conversion therapy and took her out of school.” Lexa pauses for a moment. This isn’t a story she has told anyone before, “I didn’t find out until weeks after it happened. I didn’t even get to go to her funeral.” Clarke squeezes Lexa’s hand for support.

Lexa says it out loud for the first time, “She killed herself, Clarke.” 

* * *

 

**_Warning no longer applies. What you missed: The story of Costia’s death. Lexa blames Costia’s parents._ **

* * *

 

Clarke pulls Lexa in for a hug, to console her. But Lexa doesn’t cry. She has finished crying. If she let herself feel for all the pain that was inflicted on her, she wouldn’t ever have the chance to live. Although she isn’t sure that blocking it all out is living either.   
“You know that you’re allowed to feel, Lexa, don’t you?” Clarke whispers, her voice muffled by Lexa’s hair. She feels Lexa stiffen up, but she doesn’t move away, and she doesn’t say anything either. 

 

* * *

 

Clarke is first to wake in the morning, she brushes clumps of thick brown hair from her face and can’t help but notice how good Lexa smells, like a warm fire on a cold night, or the earth the day after it rains. She tries to fall back to sleep, to avoid waking the brunette whose limbs are wrapped around her. She feels safe, and it’s been so long since she felt so secure, but it’s too late. Lexa starts to stir and Clarke is enchanted by how soft she looks. She looks pure, as though she is at peace with the world, rather than numbed by it. “Hey.” The brunette barely whispers, and then coming to reality, “Oh. Uh… Sorry.” She mutters, gently shuffling away from the blonde. Clarke buries the sinking feeling in her chest, choosing to turn and gaze out the window. She fixates on the raindrops, slowly dribbling down the glass. Light rain blurs the skyline; the overshadowing clouds, painted grey as smoke, and lightning flashes across the purple horizon. It’s so calm, but it’s the calm that always precedes the storm.

 

Lexa brings over a bowl of cereal to Clarke and sits down beside her, but not so close that they are touching. By the time they have finished eating, and Clarke has washed up their dishes, the storm has rolled overhead, and loud thunder shakes the very foundations of the building. Together they decided that this is no weather to be travelling in and Clarke offers to go and book the room for an extra night. 

 

When Clarke returns, it doesn’t occur to her to knock. She walks in to see Lexa half-undressed. They lock eyes for a moment; Lexa, with a shirt stretched awkwardly across her elbows. Clarke’s eyes shift to the scar-like tattoos along Lexa’s ribs. She pulls her eyes away, a look of panic washing over her face, and she breaks the silence,

“Ohmigod. I’m so sorry…” Clarke starts backing out of the room.

“Get back in here.” Lexa rushes over to the door, dropping her shirt on the way, and shutting the door with Clarke inside, “before someone else walks past” she adds. Clarke notices the voices further down the walkway. 

Clarke can’t help but notice how close Lexa is standing to her. She can’t stop her eyes flittering up and down the brunette’s gorgeous, tanned, body. The crude tattoos look out of place on her soft skin. Clarke averts her eyes, feeling embarrassed. 

“You don’t need to feel embarrassed, Clarke.”

“Aren’t you embarrassed?” She splutters back.

“No. Why would I be?”

“Well, for one, I just walked in on you, half undressed.” Lexa shrugs.   
Clarke doesn’t understand how someone can be so casual about their body, “Doesn’t it make you uncomfortable? Your body-” she gestures, “it’s a personal thing?”

“Personal? Yes.” Lexa replies cooly, “Private? Not so much. Everyone has one. It’s nothing to keep a secret.”

“I suppose you have a point.” Clarke responds, “But I won’t be taking my shirt off for you anytime soon.” She adds, slipping out of the jam Lexa created between herself and the door, and striding towards the bed. 

Clarke doesn’t see Lexa’s face, how could she? She had her back turned. But the brunette’s features harden, an attempt to block the sinking feeling in her chest. It had been a foolish long-shot, anyway. 

The blonde’s admittance, although harmlessly intended, triggers a series of curses in Lexa’s mind. She curses herself for believing someone could love her, again. She curses herself for allowing emotions to slip back in; for dropping her barriers, and allowing herself to be free-spirited on this road-trip. She curses herself for having hope, for breaking the promise she made to herself, after Costia, to never let feelings cloud her judgement again. She curses herself for agreeing to come on this road trip.

“Well?” A voice tears her from her thoughts,  _ Oh god.  _ How she adores that voice.  _ Stop it _ , Lexa. She reminds herself.

“Well what?” Lexa’s voice is harsh.

“Whoa.. Uh…” Clarke seems a little taken aback, “Are you going to finish getting dressed?”   
Lexa takes a deep breath and storms over to her suitcase, grabbing the shirt she had dropped on the way, and ducking into the bathroom. 

 

_ What did I do wrong?  _  Clarke asks herself. One moment, she was cheerful and the next she was crashing. Clarke plays over the conversation, and she remembers what Raven had said on the first day, when they first left their apartments;  _ No. No way. Lexa couldn’t possibly...  _ Clarke considers it. It might make sense. She starts to feel bad for shutting Lexa down, but Lexa wasn’t flirting,  _ was she? _ No. She couldn’t have been. She’d made it quite clear that there was nothing  _ sexual  _ about the situation. Clarke decides she’s reading into it too far. Whatever has upset Lexa, probably had nothing to do with her. However, this conclusion doesn’t settle the uneasy feeling her stomach.

 

When Lexa finally emerges from the bathroom, she refused to acknowledge Clarke and won’t meet her eyes. Instead she takes a book from her bag, and sits down by the window, in the corner of the room. Clarke decides to do the same, after all, two can play this game. She takes out her sketchbook and opens it, where she left off. The last page has a drawing of the girl sitting across the room from her on it.  _ She was drawing her _ , and she didn’t finish. She resumes work on the piece. She doesn’t dare look up from her pad, at the subject across the room, for fear of angering her, or hurting her. Clarke isn’t sure which it is she fears. Instead she tries to work from memory, but she can’t get the image of Lexa in half-undress from her mind. This doesn’t seem to deter the blonde. She starts drawing the tight fit of Lexa’s jeans, the way the denim clings to her thighs, and before she realizes it she’s drawing the cross-straps of Lexa’s bra, ignoring the wearing of a shirt, as the brunette were last night. She then draws the brunette’s long way hair, and tries to do justice to the intricate braids in which she wears it. For a moment, Clarke looks up, but Lexa’s hair is tied behind her back, away from view. Clarke closes her book, and slips it away, sighing as she sinks into the bed. 

 

Her eyes slowly close, and images of Lexa dance on the back of her eyelids. She can’t deny that Lexa is good-looking, and she’d  _ maybe  _ go there. But isn’t it too soon? They only just met.  _ Wait. _ Why is she even thinking about this? Didn’t she decide that Lexa doesn’t  _ like _ her?


	5. Alexandria

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think you will all like this chapter.

Clarke goes for a walk that night to get dinner, since they ate the last they had at lunch. She comes back with a box of microwave macaroni and a packet of instant noodles. When she steps back into the room, her hair is soaked, and water is dripping from her jacket. Lexa is no longer sitting in the corner, but is curled up at the head of the bed. Lexa’s eyes lift up from her book, a different one from that morning, and stare emotionlessly at Clarke. Clarke wonders how many books she brought, surely half her suitcase must be filled simply with literature..

“Which would you like?” She asks Lexa. Lifting up her arms to show a soaked box in one hand, and wet packet in the other.

Lexa opens her mouth to speak, but no words come out. A few seconds pass, and Clarke drops her arms.

“You know what? Let’s just have half-and-half?” Clarke, suggests, exasperated.

“Okay. That sounds good.” Lexa smiles. Clarke can’t tell if she’s being serious, and is genuinely oblivious to her temper, or is deliberately ignoring it to infuriate her. Clarke takes a few deep breaths to calm herself. If Lexa is going to act so _childish_ , she isn’t going to give her the satisfaction of getting a rise out of her.  
Clarke shakes off her jacket, leaving it in a puddle at the door, and traipses over to the kitchenette.

When the “meals” are cooked, Clarke empties half of each into the other bowl, and roughly tosses in forks, before shoving one bowl at Lexa.

Lexa puts down her book and takes the bowl off Clarke. She doesn’t say anything, not even thank you. Lexa knows she is being impolite. But once she starts showing kindness, where does it end? No, she needs to be quiet. And maybe if Clarke hates her, she won't feel anything for the blonde anymore, _maybe._

 

After tea, Lexa gets up and washes her own bowl in the sink, leaving in the soapy water for Clarke. _It’s not polite_ , she tells herself, _it’s being conservative of natural resources._

 

* * *

 

Clarke is having a difficult time restraining herself from saying anything. She wants to ask so desperately why Lexa is being so rude and shutting herself off, but she also wants to tell her off for taking whatever it is, out on the girl who is basically offering her a free holiday. She settles for silence, because she understands that some things, once said, cannot be taken back. She learned that from her father, who had truly suffered the price of his words.

 

Whilst Lexa is getting changed in the bathroom, Clarke changes in the main room, and then switches on the television.

 

Lexa sets down her clothes when she comes out, and then moves over to the storage closet, stretching up on her tip-toes, to tug down the extra pillows on the top shelf. She finally gets them both out and brings them over to the bed. She tosses back the cover, paying no note to the girl that she flings the blankets at, and starts piling the pillows in a wall down the centre of the bed.

“A pillow wall? Really, Lexa?”

Lexa doesn’t say anything. She doesn’t even look at Clarke. She knows that it’s better if she puts up barriers. For Clarke’s sake, and hers. She can’t let what happened last night, happen again. If she gets too close to Clarke, she fears they will both get hurt. If the past has told her anything, then surely it has told her that.

 

Clarke goes back to watching the television, but she can’t focus on it. She doesn’t even know what program she is watching. She doesn’t understand Lexa, not at all. It’s like something just happened and she switched from marshmallows and sunshine to ice and even more ice.

But she is ripped from her seething by the small voice beside her, “Could you turn that off? I’m trying to sleep.”

“You could get up and turn it off.” Clarke suggests, smugly, gesturing at the screen.

“Don’t be so childish, Clarke.” Lexa retorts.

“I’m not the one being childish here.” Clarke snaps back, crossing her arms, “If you want it off, you can turn it off, but don’t expect me to bow to you.”

Lexa rolls out of bed, and stomps across the room, aggressively shutting the television off by the remote, and storming back to bed.

“Child.” Clarke mutters under breath.

“I heard that.” Lexa responds, and Clarke can’t tell whether or not she is at all affected, she just sounds tired. _With any luck, this cold-streak will exhaust her_ , Clarke thinks to herself.

“You were supposed to hear it.” is the only response Clarke can come up with because she is tired too. Clarke then climbs into bed herself, yanking the blankets over to her side, as she rolls over, turning her back to Lexa.

 

* * *

  
The next morning, Lexa is already up before Clarke, and seems to have already gone out, as has brought back two single-serving packets of cornflakes and a small carton of milk. _Maybe she is being nice again today._ But that delusional hope is shattered when Lexa turns around and sees Clarke sitting up in bed, “Oh, you’re awake.” She speaks, almost as a complaint.

“Nice to see you, too.”

“Mockery, isn’t the product of a strong mind, Clarke.” Lexa responds.

But Clarke simply mimics her words, in a poor imitation and lower tone.

Lexa rolls her eyes, but still brings Clarke a bowl of cereal.

 

By 10, they are on the road again, and Clarke is driving. They pass mile marker after mile marker and neither speaks. After about three-quarters of an hour, Clarke can no longer stand the silence, so she turns up the music and starts singing along, belting out the lyrics at the top of her lungs. Lexa shoots her a filthy glare, and covers her ears, choosing to stare out the window, rather than look at, or listen to, the girl she _definitely does not_ _have_ _any feelings for._

Clarke notices Lexa’s indignation, but ignores it, instead taking her choice to cover her ears, as a sign that she should sing louder, if that’s at all possible.

She’d had plans for today. But she isn’t sure if she should follow through. She isn’t sure if Lexa deserves this _surprise_ , after recent events. Clarke decides to follow through. Maybe if Lexa sees Clarke’s kindness, despite the icy daggers she keeps pointing at her, she will drop this act.

 

About an hour later, Clarke turns off the interstate.

“Where are we going?” Lexa asks, her voice slightly tainted by panic.

“You’ll see.”

“Why can’t you just tell me?” She demands. Her tone scares Clarke.

“It’s a surprise.”

“I don’t like surprises.” is Lexa’s response, her voice flat.

 _Of course you don’t,_ Clarke thinks to say, but decides to keep her lips pursed.

 

Almost immediately off the interstate, they see the beginnings of the outer suburbs approaching. But they won't be going that far into town.

Up ahead, Clarke can just make out the Welcome to Town sign. She pulls over to the side of the road.

“Why are we stopping?” Lexa questions. Clarke points out the windshield at the sign, “ _Welcome to Alexandria._ ”

Lexa’s mouth is gaping open. She is touched by the gesture, truly; that Clarke would go out of her way to bring her here, just to see a sign. But it doesn’t change anything, if anything it proves that her attempts to distance herself have been ineffective. She closes her jaw.

Clarke climbs out the car, but Lexa doesn’t move.

“Aren’t you going to get out.” Clarke asks, trying her best to be friendly.

“No.”

“Lexa, if you don’t get out, I’m going to come around and drag you out.” Lexa gets out, begrudgingly.

“Now, go stand in front of the sign so I can take your picture.”

“Clarke…” Lexa whines, “You’re not taking a photo.”

“Yes I am.” Clarke argues, her voice heavy with authority. Lexa stalks over to the sign, but she won’t smile. Clarke takes a picture anyway, of her looking pissed.

“Smile.” she demands. Lexa obeys, snarkily, and throws up a middle finger as well. She knows that she is being immature. Clarke snaps the photo, regardless.

 

They climb back into the car, and Clarke swings into the driveway across the street to get gas, and provisions for the next couple days. Meanwhile, Lexa stays seated, apparently still sulking, over who-knows-what.

 

Another hour or so, down the road, Clarke pulls off again, and swings through a drive-through for lunch.

“Let me guess, you’ll have the same as me?” Clarke asks Lexa.

“Yeah.” Lexa responds, not moving her gaze from the view out her window.

Clarke sighs and orders.

 

The resulting drive, is much the same as the morning. That afternoon they arrive in Bismarck, and Clarke pulls into the first motel she finds with a vacancy.

Lexa grabs her bag and waltzes inside, leaving Clarke to pick up her own luggage _and_ the groceries.  


When Clarke is booking the room, she makes sure to specify that they require two _separate_ beds.

“How many nights?” the desk clerk asks.

Clarke hesitates, she had a number of plans for the city, but isn’t sure they’ll be any fun with Lexa McMopey-pants along for the ride.

Lexa leans over and whispers in Clarke’s ear, “One.”

That settles Clarke’s mind. “Two.” She tells the clerk.

“Clarke,” Lexa hisses into her ear.”

Her harsh voice stings, and Clarke flinches.

“That will be $260.” The clerk says, “Cash or Card?”

“Card.” Clarke pays for the room. She wonders when Lexa will start fitting some bills. She hadn’t expected her to when she invited her to come, but if she is going to be this sour...

 

When they reach the room, they each dump down their bags by their beds.

Lexa turns to Clarke, “Why did you book this for two nights, right after I said one? We don’t even need to stay that long. The weather has cleared up…”

“Lexa, if you didn’t want to come, you didn’t have to.” Clarke answers.

Lexa seems taken aback, “I-”

“Look, you clearly don’t like me, _at all_ ,” Clarke gestures, “But you don’t need to be so rude. What I can’t figure out is why would you agree to come if you despise me so much?

You could have just waited a couple days in some cheap motel and got a plane ticket, but nooo…” Clarke finishes.

“I don’t hate you Clarke,” Lexa responds. How could she? _She’s_ the reason she agreed to come on this trip.

“Well what then?” Clarke asks, frustrated.

Lexa strides across the room, and stands in front of Clarke, leaving only a couple inches between them. She can feel Clarke’s breath on her cheeks.

Their eyes meet, and Lexa’s intense gaze softens. Clarke is confused. _What is happening?_

But then Lexa’s eyes, flitter down to Clarke’s lips, and back up again,  and her hand moves to cup Clarke’s cheek. _Oh..._

Lexa hesitates for a moment, seeking consent. Clarke’s shoulders drop, releasing the tension she held, and she gives a subtle nod.

Lexa moves in, allowing her nose to brush lightly against Clarke’s before their mouths touch.

“I could never hate you, Clarke.” She whispers softly against Clarke’s lips, before pressing against them. The kiss is soft and gentle, much unlike the Lexa that Clarke has come to know in the past two days.

Clarke breaks away first, “Oh.” she voices.

Lexa opens her mouth to apologize but Clarke closes it with her lips.  


* * *

 

**To: Raven**

**Sent: 6.42pm** **  
** You were right.

 

**To: Griffin**

**Received: 6:57pm**

ofc i was

 

**To: Griffin**

**Received: 6:57pm**

about wot?

 

**To: Raven**

**Sent: 7:00pm**

Lexa

 

***** Incoming Call: Raven *****

 

“Tell me everything, Griffin.” Raven’s voice comes over the phone.

“She kissed me.”

“Oh my God. I knew it. I was so right. And then what happened?”

“I kissed her back.”

“So… Have yous, y’know…”

“Raven.” Clarke hisses.

“Whoa, okay…”

“She hated me two hours ago.”

“Doesn’t sound like it.” Raven pauses. Clarke hums into the phone, as though she is considering Raven’s words but doesn’t quite agree.

“Oh come on, Griffin. Whatever happened, don’t hold it against her. She was probably just trying to bottle up her feelings for you. She seems emo enough to do that…”

Clarke laughs, “I don’t think she’s _emo_ , Raven.  Something was genuinely bothering her.”

“You should probably talk to _her_ about that then. You know I’m no expert on feelings.”

“Yeah, you’re right.”

“On which count?”

“Both. All.” Clarke teases, “Oh, I think Lexa is almost out the shower, I got to go.”

“Yeah, go talk to your giiiirrrrlll-friieenndd.” Raven whistles into the phone.

“Ouch. That hurt my ears, Raven,” Clarke whines, “Also she is not my girlfriend.”

“Yet.” Raven adds.

“Shut-up.” Clarke hangs up the phone.

**Call Ended: 7:03pm**

 

“Who was that?” Lexa asks.

“Uh, just Raven.”

“Did you tell her? I mean not that it’s my business, really, you can tell who you like, but…” Lexa drops off.

“Yeah, I told her, is that okay?” Clarke checks, slightly worried.

“Yeah.”

“Sure?”

“Yeah.” Lexa replies, more affirmatively.

 

During tea, Clarke sets down her fork, “Lexa, we need to talk.”

Anxiety washes over Lexa. _Oh no. She regrets it. She hates me. It’s my fault._

“What happened?” Clarke asks, “The other night, you just-... shut down.”

“You hate me don’t you?” she asks, scared.

“No,” Clarke replies instantly, “No, I don’t hate you Lexa, I just need to know if it was my fault… if I hurt you…”

Lexa hadn’t considered that Clarke might have actually cared. Her eyes start to water.

“It wasn’t your fault.” She replies, her voice a little shaky.

Clarke is thankful for that response, but it doesn’t satisfy her question “What happened?”

“I was just reminded of Costia. You reminded me of her, at the end. When she started to despise me… and it all just made me realize how _toxic_ I am. How being close to me hurts people; kills people…”

Clarke has to think about her words for a moment. It’s a lot to take in. She hadn’t realized how badly Lexa was still hurting.

“Lexa, Costia’s death wasn’t your fault…”

“I know that, but if it weren’t for me, she would still be alive, wouldn’t she?”

“Lexa if it wasn’t you, it would have been another girl.”

Lexa sniffles.

“And you are not toxic, either,” Clarke continues, embracing Lexa. Clarke is suddenly overwhelmed by Lexa’s pain. How fragile must her soul be that she is afraid of love? How tragic it is that she is so cautious of herself, treating herself like a grenade, ready to explode at the right trigger. In that moment, she wants to wrap Lexa in bubblewrap and protect her from all the evil in the world. She wants to wash away all the pain the small girl has felt, but she knows that can’t be done, oh, how she _knows._

“Thank you.” Lexa whispers into Clarke’s shoulder.

Clarke is confused, “For what?”

“For caring.” _God,_ Clarke feels her heart splinter, _where can I get some bubble-wrap?_ she asks herself, pulling Lexa closer.

 


	6. Maybe We Should Go Somewhere More Private

A loud foghorn from a passing truck disturbs the peaceful quiet of the early morning.

Clarke wakes, muttering obscenities under her breath. She vows to go to a motel further from the highway next time. Clarke climbs out of bed, and walks over to the other bed, where Lexa sleep, unperturbed by the city noise. Clarke lifts back the covers and climbs in next to Lexa.

“What time is it?” Lexa asks.

“Too early.” Clarke replies.

“Ugh. I want to go back to sleep.”

“I know.”

Clarke kisses the top of Lexa’s head and she feels the brunette snuggle in closer. 

Clarke would stay like this forever if she could. 

After Finn she had not let herself get too close to anyone, emotionally. Of course she’d still had one-night stands and casual flings, but none of it had felt real. The warm feeling in her chest was so long-forgotten that it became foreign. She was almost glad for it, for now she had the chance to experience everything, fully, like it was all brand-new. And she supposes, it is brand-new. She’d never really been with anyone before Finn; she’d never been with  _ anyone _ who felt this much like home. She doesn’t understand, how someone she has only just met, can feel this familiar. Surely, it’s a foolish daydream. But Lexa is a daydream she is willing to recklessly fall into.

 

_ I don’t want to wake up,  _ not from this daydream. Clarke is scared that Lexa is only using her, the same way she used dozens of people when she tried to forget Finn. She couldn’t blame her, but the thought that she might lose her, the first good thing that has come to her in so long, before she really gets the chance to love her, terrifies her. Perhaps it would be better to cut ties now, to save heartbreak, later. 

“Lexa?”

“Hmmm….” Clarke thinks about telling her that this should end, before it goes too far, before it becomes something that they can’t go back from without getting hurt.  _ But maybe it’s already too late for that. _ But then she pauses. Who cares if it’s only for the summer? If Lexa won’t speak to her again when she drops her home? She’ll be just like everyone else.  _ But she’s different. _ Clarke knows she is. She’s tired of using people and tossing them aside. Screw Finn, and the mess he left her in. She’s not going to keep burying her heart. She deserves better than that.

“I don’t want this trip to end.” Clarke confesses. 

“Me neither.”

 

Lexa’s lips curl up into a smile. But then she realizes,  _ this trip will end. _ At the end of this summer, Clarke is going to drop her home, and probably never speak to her again. She knows that Clarke has a reputation for that. Clarke’s reputation isn’t what scares her, though. The thought of having someone else go cold on her, does. 

 

Clarke feels Lexa’s body stiffen.

“What’s wrong?” she asks. 

“Nothing.” Lexa replies, trying to sound convincing.

“Lexa, I know that I’ve only known you for, like, five days, but if there is one thing I’ve learned, it’s how to tell when something is wrong.”

Lexa feels guilty that that is the one trait of her’s that Clarke can recognise. She hadn’t realized she was so poor-spirited. It’s not the kind of person she wants to be thought of as. 

“I’m sorry.” She responds, meekly.

“What?”

“I’m sorry.” she repeats. Did Clarke not hear her?

“No, I heard you. But why are you sorry? You have nothing to be sorry for.” But she does, at least that’s how she feels.

“I’m sorry for being such trouble. You really wanted to enjoy this holiday, and then I come along.”

“Lexa, that’s nothing to be sorry for. I’m glad you came.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.” 

“But I’ve been terrible company.”

“I suppose.” Lexa feels her heart sink. She hadn’t  _ really _ expected Clarke to agree. She’s about to say something, to apolagize again, but Clarke hasn’t finished.

“But I think that’s about to change.” The blonde continues, twisting herself around so that she comes face-to-face with Lexa. Clarke leans in, enveloping Lexa’s lips in a kiss. The kiss is soft and sweet, but it doesn’t last long, before Clarke pulls away.

“Now tell me what’s wrong.”

“I’m scared.” Lexa replies.

“Of what?” Clarke asks, seriously.

Lexa takes a moment to prepare herself. If she tells Clarke the truth, that she is worried Clarke will leave her after the Summer, she might offend her and she doesn’t want to do that. 

“Lexa?” Clarke asks again, “What are you scared of?” 

“That this will end.” She tells.

“Lexa, this can last as long as you want it to.”

“I’m not talking about the trip, Clarke.”

“Neither am I.”

Not all of Lexa’s concerns are washed away. But hearing that, it helps. It certainly helps.

 

“Do you have any plans for today?” Lexa asks Clarke.

Clarke takes a moment to spit out the moutful of toothpaste. She holds up a finger to Lexa, indicating for her to wait a moment.

“As a matter of fact, I do.”

“Go on…” Lexa pries for answers.

“Oh no… I’m not telling you, it’ll ruin the surprise.”

“Everything has to be a surprise with you Clarke, doesn’t it?”

“It’s part of the charm.” Clarke replies, nonchalantly over her shoulder, as she packs her toothbrush back into her suitcase.

“I told you that I don’t like surprises.” 

“Oh and here I was, thinking my charm was actually working.”

“Clarke.”

“Nope, I’m not talking to you, if you don’t like my charm.”

“Clarke.” Lexa repeats, striding towards Clarke.

Clarke is too busy “ignoring” Lexa to hear her approach. Lexa grabs her shoulder and spins her around so that they are facing each other.

“You’re charm is working just fine.” Lexa affirms, initiating a kiss.

“Mhmm.” Clarke moans, “Well, if that is the case…” Clarke deepens the kiss.

This time Lexa is the one to break it. She turns to whisper in Clarke’s ear.

“Where are we going?”

“ _ Oh, I see what you’re doing. _ ” Clarke’s eyes widen, “Bribery isn’t going to work on me. You can’t buy my resolve with kisses, Lexa.”

Lexa kisses her again, more intensely than the first time, her tongue tracing lightly across Clarke’s bottom lip, making goosebumps appear and eliciting a moan from the blonde woman.

“Are you sure?” she whispers against Clarke’s mouth, moving her tongue in to glide across the front of Clarke’s teeth. Lexa feels Clarke going weak at the knees, and it makes her want to do  _ so much more. _ The moment is broken though, when Clarke pulls away, taking a step backwards.

“I’m sure.” she smirks, ducking out from beside Lexa, leaving Lexa to recollect herself. She isn’t sure what turned her on more; making Clarke weak, or Clarke’s refusal to give in, denying her what she asked. 

 

Clarke eventually convinces Lexa to close her eyes for the drive.

When they finally arrive, she won’t let her open them, she helps Lexa out of the car, and guides her across the parking lot to the entrance. They come to a stop.

“Can I open my eyes yet, Clarke?”

“No.”

“We are here, aren’t we?”  _ Wherever “here” is. _

“I said, not yet.” Clarke responds.

The blonde lets go of Lexa’s hand.

“Where are you going?”

But Clarke doesn’t reply.

“Cla-” Clarke shushes Lexa with a kiss.

“Now, you can open your eyes.”

Clarke steps aside so Lexa can see where they are.

“A theme park?”

“I guess, it is.” Clarke smirks.

 

It doesn’t take long for Clarke to realise her mistake. Maybe if she doesn’t say anything…

“Clarke, this place is for children.”

“I know.”

“You know?” Lexa quizzes.

“Yeah. I know.” 

“Well why are we here.”

“I didn’t realise until we got here… Maybe we can still have fun.”

“But everything’s so…  _ tiny. _ ”

Clarke laughs. 

“Maybe that will be part of the fun.”

She takes Lexa’s hand and drags her towards the teacups.

The lady operating the ride, looks at them suspiciously. Clarke starts to wonder if there are size restrictions, like  _ too tall _ restrictions. But the moment passes and they’re allowed on.

It’s still early morning, so not many people have arrived. Clarke is thankful, at least that she isn’t going to have to fight small children for seats.

 

They climb into a teacup, and close the small door. 

“This is ridiculous, Clarke.”

“I know” she says, careful not to jam her jaw into her her knees when she speaks.

“It’s so tiny.” Lexa laughs.

 

“LEXA!”

“Ouch. My ears.” 

“Sorry. Look at this!!”

“It’s a rollercoaster, Clarke.”

“No, it’s a  _ train _ coaster. We have to go on it.”

Lexa seems hesitant.

“C’mon. It’ll be fun.” Clarke assures.

 

Slowly the coaster climbs it’s first ascent. Lexa looks positively terrified. She is holding Clarke’s hand so hard that her knuckles have gone white.

“Have you never been on a rollercoaster before?” Clarke asks.

“No.”

They reach the top of the climb, and topple over. Lexa screams but is quick to cover her mouth. She looks at Clarke, mortified.

Clarke looks panicked, “You aren’t going to puke are you?”. She yells over the roar over the coaster, soaring downwards.

Lexa shakes her head, and clenches her eyes shut. Moving the hand that was over her mouth to grasp the bar in front of her. 

Someone from the front of the carriage yells back at them “Don’t puke on me.”

“It’s all good.” Clarke shouts back.

 

The coaster flies over the next few bumps and turns but takes it time, slowly ascending the next rise. For a moment, Clarke isn’t sure it will have the momentum to make it, she turns to Lexa,

“You can open your eyes now.”

Lexa does so cautiously, just as the coaster tips over the top and plummets downwards.

She doesn’t close her eyes again.

 

“That wasn’t so bad now, was it?” Clarke teases. Lexa just shoots her a death glare.

“Admit it, Lexa.”

“Fine, it wasn’t  _ horrible. _ ” Clarke is satisfied with that.

 

Next, Clarke drags Lexa to the super slide. 

“Oh, no, I am  _ not  _ going on that, Clarke. There are no seatbelts.”

“You can take one of the middle slides.” 

Lexa is still unsure.

“I promise it is nothing compared to the  _ train _ coaster.”

Lexa resigns.

 

“I’m scared, Clarke,” Lexa whispers. The two girls are seated on their sacks at the top of the slide.

“Oh, come-on. Just go.”

“I don’t think I want to do this.” Lexa says, starting to wriggle backwards.

“Oh no, you don’t.” Clarke says, grabbing Lexa’s hand and propelling them both down.

Once they’re in freefall, Clarke let’s go so that she can hold onto her sack, squealing in joy. (It’s not really  _ that  _ fun. She’s only doing it for Lexa’s reaction.)

They reach the bottom, and Lexa actually has a smile on her face.

 

After the slide, Clarke gets a spiel of cotton candy, 

“Would you like some?” she offers Lexa.

 

The girls tire themselves on everything the park has to offer: swings, carousel, rock climbing, and even the bouncy house. Clarke learns that Lexa has quite a competitive side, after an intense round on the bumper cars.

“Look at my neck, Lexa.”

“What about it?” Lexa plays innocent, pulling Clarke’s shirt collar aside, and squinting her eyes.

“Don’t play dumb- all the bruises, from every time the seatbelt chaffed me when you slammed into my car! It looks like a line of hickies.”

Lexa leans into Clarke’s ear, “I could add some more if you like…” She whispers, seductively.

Lexa hears Clarke’s breath hitch.

“There are children here, Lexa.”

“Well, maybe we should go somewhere a little bit more  _ private. _ ”

Clarke pulls away, “But the ferris wheel?” She pouts.

“We can go on the ferris wheel, Clarke, if that is what your wish.” Lexa says, burying her desire.

 

The sun is beginning to set, setting the horizon aglow with streaks of amber, twirled with soft pink and awash with deep purples. Lexa leans her head into Clarke’s shoulder and Clarke takes out her phone to take a photograph, of her and Lexa, and the beautiful sunset in the background. 

 

When the carriage comes to a rest at the top of the wheel, Lexa turns to Clarke,

“Thankyou.”

“For what?”

“For inviting me.”

“I’m glad you came.”

That night, they decide to push the beds together, not that it is necessary, since it is unlikely they will sleep so far apart that they require the space of two beds.

 

When Lexa returns from her shower, she sees Clarke laid out on the  _ beds _ , and wonders how she could be so lucky.

“You’re so beautiful.” she professes. Clarke sits up.

“Not as beautiful as you.” Lexa blushes.

“Shut-up.” 

Clarke takes a moment.

“Make me.” That’s what Lexa had been waiting to hear, all day.

Lexa advances on Clarke, cupping her hands around the blonde’s soft cheeks, and pressing her lips to Clarke’s. Lexa crawls up next to Clarke, pushing her down into the bed, and deepening the kiss. Her tongue dances across Clarke’s lips. Clarke opens her mouth, allowing Lexa entry. Lexa pushes in, gliding her tongue along the roof of Clarke’s mouth, behind her upper teeth. Clarke moans, and Lexa breaks away to smile, before moving her kisses downward, tracing a sloppy path across Clarke’s chin, and down her throat. 

“As promised.” She murmurs into Clarke’s neck, softly biting down, and sucking.

Clarke’s back rises.  _ Fuck _ . Is all the blonde can think. 

Lexa takes her hand that is not holding her up, and presses Clarke’s hips back down to meet the covers of the bed. Clarke’s hand shoots up and grabs her wrist. But then she drops it. Instead, guiding Lexa’s face back up to meet hers, and enveloping her lips in other kiss.

Lexa happily obliges Clarke, moving her hand behind Clarke’s head, to push their lips closer together.

Lexa slips her thigh between Clarke’s legs and pushes it upwards, applying pressure to Clarke’s centre.

“ _ Fuck.” _ Clarke moans, between heavy breaths and kisses. Clarke starts grinding on Lexa’s leg, whilst Lexa continues her messy kisses on Clarke’s mouth.

Lexa freezes for a moment. She knows if they go any further there will be no stopping.

“Clarke?”

Clarke’s body eases.

“Yeah?”

“You sure you want this?”

“I’m sure. You?”

“More than anything.” Lexa says, kissing Clarke.

* * *

 

_ The following section has been cut out from my posting on fanfiction.net. Please proceed reading on my AO3. _

* * *

 

Lexa breaks away from the kiss, to remove her shirt, and then help Clarke remove hers. She starts kissing a messy line back down Clarke’s chin and throat, making a couple more marks on her neck, and moving towards her breasts. Lexa’s moves one hand behind Clarke, to work at removing her bra, and slip the other in underneath it, allowing her fingers to glide over Clarke’s breast, fondling her already hardened nipple. 

Lexa manages to remove the bra. She places her lips on Clarke’s other breast,  sucking on the skin next to the areola. Clarke’s back arches, and Lexa bites down, a little harder. She moves her mouth over, taking Clarke’s nipple in her mouth, and allowing her tongue to swirl around the mound. 

“Lexa,” Clarke begs, pressing herself down onto Lexa’s thigh.

Lexa continues playing with Clarke’s nipple with her tongue, but takes her other hand, and slowly moves it down Clarke’s stomach, pausing at her hemline.

“Go on.” Clarke pleads.

Lexa unbuttons Clarke’s jeans and slips her hand inside, leaving the layer of fabric, provided by Clarke’s underwear between Clarke and her touch.

Lexa can feel the dampness of the fabric, and can only imagine how wet Clarke is underneath. 

Lexa pushes down on the fabric, feeling her fingers press down between Clarke’s lower lips.

Clarke is breathing heavily, and growing impatient.

The blonde sits up a little, so she can peal off her own jeans, whilst Lexa adds to the myriad of marks on her neck, her other hand, still pressed against Clarke’s centre, tracing slow and deliberate circles.

Clarke discards of her pants and collapses back down.

“Closer.” She begs Lexa.

Lexa pushes Clarke’s underwear aside, and slides her fingers underneath. She uses her other hand to steady herself on the bed. She can feel how wet Clarke is. Her fingers easily slip between Clarke’s lips, and she find’s her throbbing clit. Lexa’s fingers make deliberate and pressured circles, being careful not to touch her clitoris,  _  not yet. _

Clarke’s breaths are getting heavier.

She moans Lexa’s name.

Lexa moves her fingers over Clarke’s clit. Feeling her body shiver, with the lightest touch. She rubs her fingers back and forth across Clarke’s clit. 

Slowly, Lexa slips one finger into Clarke, allowing the blonde to adjust to the feeling before she adds another.

Lexa carefully pumps her fingers in and out of Clarke, continuing ministrations on her clitoris with her thumb.

Clarke is close to coming.

Lexa increases her rhythm, pumping her fingers in and out a little faster, and applying more pressure to her clit. She curls her fingertips, pressing against Clarke’s inside.

Clarke begins to quake, and Lexa continues, allowing Clarke to ride her fingers through her orgasm. Clarke comes with Lexa’s name on her breath.

 

Clarke doesn’t take long to recover, before she has Lexa out of her pants and on her back. Clarke keeps her lips on Lexa’s as she unclasps her bra, and tosses it aside. She starts kissing a trail down Lexa’s chin, her neck, her chest, taking Lexa’s nipple in her mouth and lightly biting down, causing Lexa’s breath to catch in her throat.

Clarke grins with satisfaction into Lexa’s soft skin, before continuing her trail downwards. Her kisses are featherlight, like a butterfly's touch, on Lexa’s stomach, Clarke pulls off Lexa’s panties. and continues kissing downward, stopping at her naval. Clarke lifts her mouth, but presses it down again, at the top of Lexa’s thigh. Lexa’s hands rush down, taking Clarke’s hair in her grasp, asking for more. But Clarke stops. She sits up and places Lexa’s hands above her head, and tells her to keep them there. 

Clarke starts over, when she reaches the thighs, Lexa struggles to maintain composure; writhing beneath Clarke’s touch. Clarke’s kisses get closer to where Lexa wants them. The brunette’s back arches, her hips lifting off the bed, but Clarke pushes them back down and says to keep them there. Lexa moans. She was used to being in control in her relationships, that’s how it had been with Costia, but this, this felt so good. Perhaps, even better.

Clarke kisses remain on Lexa’s thighs and she pleads for more.

“Clarke…”

Clarke hushes her, but obligues, taking her hand and pushing apart Lexa’s lips. Clarke can smell Lexa’s juices. She takes her fingers and slips them into Lexa, eliciting another moan from the brunette. Clarke then takes Lexa in her mouth, lightly sucking on Lexa’s clit, and it is all too quick before Lexa comes undone. 

“Fuck… Clarke…” She moans, as comes on Clarke’s against Clarke’s kiss.

 

Clarke pulls away and wipes her face on the sheets, before coming to meet Lexa. 

“Fuck, tha- that was... good.” Lexa struggles to get out, as Clarke kisses her.

Clarke pulls apart, “I know right.”

Lexa laughs.

“Again?” the brunette asks.

Clarke smiles. “Again.”


	7. Commander Lexa

When Lexa wakes the next morning, she has to brush the mop of blonde hair caught in her mouth, out of her face. The bright light cascading in from the window blinds her, she winces. It takes a while for everything to sink in; the arm wrapped around her chest, holding her tight, the smell of berries from Clarke’s shampoo… the way Clarke’s stomach expands against her waist as she breathes. She almost can’t believe that she is awake. 

 

Slowly, she rolls over onto her side, to face the sleeping girl beside here. Her movements are inelegant and cause the blonde to stir. Clarke’s eyes shoot open, and for a moment, Lexa worries she is going to shuffle away, scared, that she will realize that this has all been a mistake, but then her blue eyes flit closed again, and she smiles. Clarke leans into kiss Lexa, and it’s soft but chaste, all too aware of the horrors of morning breath. The blonde buries her face into Lexa’s neck, and mutters something. Lexa doesn’t quite understand what she’s saying.

She asks Clarke to repeat herself. She still doesn’t make much sense, but Lexa thinks she catches the word, “coffee.”

“Do you want coffee, Clarke?” Lexa checks, to see if she’s hearing correctly. 

Clarke nods.

Lexa rolls her eyes as she begins to roll out of bed, Clarke catches her arm.

“Stay,” she moans.

“There will be no coffee, if I stay, Clarke.”

Begrudgingly, Clarke loosens her grip.

“Nice to know where your priorities are at.” Lexa teases. But it doesn’t seem that Clarke is awake enough to make any meaning from her words.

 

Lexa soon comes back to bed with a cup of hot coffee for Clarke.

“Careful, it’s hot.” She tells her, as Clarke sits up and accepts the beverage.

 

About three sips in, she reaches across her phone, she turns it on, and checks the time: 10:13am. It takes a moment for it to register.

“Shit!” She almost screams, jumping to attention, followed by “fuck” as she accidentally splashes some of the drink onto the sheets, the hot liquid seeping through the crumpled layers of thin cotton, scorching her thigh. 

 

Lexa is rushing over to her, Clarke almost in shock. 

The brunnette takes the cup from Clarke, and places it on the nightstand. 

Clarke then tosses the sheet aside, and presses her hand to the burn, trying to alleviate the pain.

 

“Show me?” Lexa asks. Clarke releases her grip on her leg, allowing Lexa to push her hand aside. Clarke looks at Lexa, expectantly.

“It’s pretty red, and tender. But I don’t think it’s going to peel. Maybe put some moisturizer on it when it cools down?” Lexa suggests, looking up to meet Clarke’s gaze.

“If you say so, Doctor.” Clarke winks.

“Clarke, this is not the time.”

“Time?” Clarke absorbs the word, rolling it over on her tongue,  _ shit. right. time. _

Lexa waits for Clarke. 

“We have to go, we have to be out of here in 15.” Clarke tells Lexa, jumping up from the bed, this time without the mistake of keeping a hot drink in her hands.

 

Both girls rush to pick up their clothes, and other belongs scattered throughout the hotel room. When they finally have everything packed, Clarke chugs the rest of her coffee and washes out the mug with soap, along with the spoon, Lexa used to stir it. 

They’re just doing a finally rushed scout of the room when they hear knocks at the door.

Clarke opens the door to a rather pissed off cleaning lady, “Manager sent me over to tell yous to get out. You gotta clear this room pronto otherwise you’ll be charged for an extra night.”

“Yeah, sorry, we were just leaving. Overslept.” Clarke explains.

The cleaner doesn’t appear impressed.

Clarke turns on her heel and grabs her suitcase in one hand, and takes Lexa’s hand in her other, pausing only for Lexa to grab her luggage, as she drags them out of the room.

The cleaner gives them a displeased stare as they brush past her, headed for the parking lot.

  
  


“Well that was awkward.” Lexa laughs, sinking back into the driver’s seat. 

“Or traumatic.”

“Well maybe for you.”

“I’m probably going to have permanent scarring from this.” Clarke gestures towards her upper thigh. She had almost forgotten about the pain in her leg, distracted by the havoc of packing up.

“Would you like me to kiss it better for you?” Lexa teases, leaning over towards Clarke.

Clarke closes the distance, meeting Lexa’s lips with her own as Lexa tries to move her kiss lower on Clarke’s body.

Clarke breaks away, “Now is not the time.”

“If you say so, Doctor.” Lexa smirks, pulling away, and focussing on the task before her. 

She is truly out of practice in driving, but Clarke insisted she should give it another try, “ _ practice makes perfect” _ she had taunted, mimicking Lexa’s own principles. Lexa knows it to be true, well almost. It’s been her life motto for years. She isn’t sure about perfect, but she’d like to think she comes close.  

 

They’re almost out of the city when Lexa seems to get her zen. City driving is stressful. 

“So I was thinking that today we might-” Lexa cuts Clarke off.

“No.”

“What do you mean, no?” Clarke is taken aback.

“I’m deciding where we are going today.”

Clarke has to bite her lip to refrain from saying something inappropriate. She has to admit, she likes it when Lexa goes all  _ commander _ on her. She can’t help herself.

“Aye, aye, commander.” Clarke mockingly surrenders, “But seriously, though, do  _ you _ know where we are going?”

“As a matter of fact I do, I had a look at your map book whilst you were in the shower last night, and know  _ exactly _ where we are going.”

 

Just because Lexa had assured Clarke she knew where they were going, it doesn’t prevent Clarke from protesting when she turns South of the Interstand after about an hour.

“I told you I know where we are going, Clarke.”

Clarke doesn’t look convinced.

“Maybe I should check the maps, for you.” Clarke suggests, reaching back for the book she had tossed over the back seat when packing the trunk earlier.

“No,” Lexa insists, wresting Clarke’s hand back to the front.  _ Incidentally _ , slipping her fingers between Clarke’s in the process. “It will ruin the surprise.” Is the only explanation Lexa offers.

“I thought you didn’t like surprises?” Clarke teases.

Lexa opens her mouth to speak but is distracted by Clarke tracing circles on the back of Lexa’s thumb with her own. 

“What? Nothing to say?”

Lexa’s cheeks bloom red.

_ Focus, Lexa _ . She reminds herself.

Clarke smirks, satisfied, before reclining back, although leaving her fingers intertwined.

 

It’s hitting lunch time, and both girls had forgotten to have breakfast, when Clarke’s stomach starts to growl.

“I’m hungry, Lexa.” she complains.

“We’re almost there.”

“Where is there?”

“I told you its a surprise.”

 

When they finally pull up, Lexa has to shake Clarke awake. 

They’re parked in front of another welcome to town sign.

This one reads “ _ Welcome to Griffin.” _

Clarke’s eyes light up.

“I couldn’t find a town called Clarke, so I hope this will do.”

“It’s perfect, Lexa.”

Clarke is overwhelmed that Lexa went to all the effort to bring her here. She hadn’t realized her gesture towards Lexa had meant so much that she felt she should reciprocate. 

 

Clarke drags Lexa over to the sign. Standing far enough in front, that she can fit everyone in frame.

“Smile.” 

Clarke snaps the photo.

It’s perfect.

Lexa agrees. 

She takes a moment to admire the photo. She looks at her own image, and wonders how long its been since she looked so happy? So carefree? It’s been too long since she can remember. Her mind flashes across events from past years. All the forced smiles, and awkard hugs. But this; this is real. Being with Clarke,  _ nothing _ has ever felt this natural.

Lexa presses a kiss to Clarke’s cheek, oblivious to the fact that Clarke has rebooted the camera.

She hears the shutter tone click.

“The one is better.” 

Lexa wrestles the phone off Clarke.

The blonde is mildly concerned that Lexa might delete it. Her worries are distracted when Lexa pushes her lips against Clarke’s.

Clarke doesn’t hear the shutter click. 

She deepens the kiss. Taking her hands to Lexa’s hips, and pulling her closer. She feels Lexa’s hand cup her ass cheek. Nothing short of total unity would be  _ close enough _ . But this, she could settle for.

They’re absorbed in the moment. Deaf to the cars that soar past them, the birds that swoop a little too close. The earth is nothing, when they have the universe pressed against them, and stars dancing across their eyelids. The only thing they feel is the gravity that tethers them together and the electricity coursing between them.

 

Lexa is the first to pull away, though it hurts, like a moon flung from orbit. 

“Not the time,” she barely manages to whisper.

Clarke looks saddened, until she shows her the shot.

_ This one is perfect. _

  
  


Hunger gets the better of them, and they decide to find somewhere for lunch. Lexa chooses. 

It’s nice;  _ really  _ nice.

The tables are laden with red silky cloths. and there are  _ two  _ forks  _ each. _

Clarke argues that she couldn’t possible afford this, unless they want to eat two-minute noodles for the next three days.

Lexa insists that she will be pay, because  _ it’s about time they had a proper date. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> follow me on tumblr @approach-withcaution


End file.
